


please, please, please let me get what i want

by Anonymous



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Pining, dumb poem format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 14:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Haven't had a dream in a long timeSee, the life I've had can make a good man badSo for once in my life let me get what I want





	please, please, please let me get what i want

This is how it starts:

He awakes with a hand on his chest, and the late afternoon sun pouring through the window,  
He’s still a little drunk from the night before, but something about this callused hand pushing up through his chest hair makes his mind clear.

Brad keeps his eyes closed because it’s all coming back to him.  
Well. Some of it.  
That’s definitely Patrice laying beside him. They’ve had sex.

Everything smells soft, like laundry and skin, but his throat-  
Brad’s never been this thirsty in his life, maybe.  
And well. He can stand it for a little while longer.

Because Patrice is still dragging his fingers across his sternum,  
And Brad can feel his breath hitching because _this_ ,  
This has to be everything he’s ever wanted.

He finds himself nearly drifting to sleep again when  
Patrice rolls off the bed and starts to stumble around,  
Speaking to Brad in French all the while.

He opens his eyes and sees Patrice standing in front of a mirror,  
Smoothing his hair out and picking sleep from his eye,  
Nude and proud in only the way that a winner can be.

When he notices Brad looking at him from where he lay,  
Patrice continues his monologue, stalking toward him, voice turning to a whisper  
He pushes one hand between Brad’s legs and uses the other to kiss him with passion.

 

Two weeks later:

Brad begins taking lessons from a French tutor.

 

Two years later:

Brad has found himself in Patrice’s bed only thrice since his fever-dream experience--  
Each time more desperate, each time more desperate,  
But the in betweens are as they’ve always been

Always together but forever apart.  
Does Patrice love him back? :  
The thought always below the surface of every motion of Brad’s life.

Maybe it’s just pent-up lust, he thinks,  
As Patrice grinds down on him while whimpering like a girl.  
Please, please, please, please, please, please,

And Brad is never sure why he begs like that.  
You know I’ll give you anything, he whispers,  
Tell me what you need, baby, and Patrice only whines all the more.

After that is game after game after plane ride after game,  
And Brad clings to Patrice when he can, when he’s deserved it,  
After he’s pushed rubber against net, again and again for him.

Otherwise they are friendly yet just distant enough to be painful,  
Brad forces himself not to look too hard for him in crowds,  
Forces himself to never call first, never force something Patrice doesn’t want,

Sometime during December Brad believes he’s going insane.  
If only Patrice could just be his husband, or his father, or his brother,  
Or anything that one man could be to another, that was the desperation for real intimacy.

Two days later:

His skates ground in hard to a stop next to Patrice, who  
Leaned in, and asked if he’d want to come over, smelling just like skin and laundry  
And well. 

Honest to god he’d thought the last time was the last time.  
Brad really didn’t know if he could do this again, if the pleasure would outweigh the pain,  
But there was no answer but a smirk and a gentle hip check and a see ya there.

He turned around and they were in bed again, and Patrice was all over him,  
Desperate as he always was, panting and grabbing and a little rough,  
Broad hands feeling every muscle, wrestling in ardor,

 

Please, please, please, please, please, please,

 

Brad grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned down his thrusting hips with his knees.  
I will give you want you want, he repeated,  
Tell me what you want, and that was left heavy, with silence in the room, 

_What I want I can’t have_ , Patrice whispered, with deep creases in his brow,  
_Surely you don’t care for me like I care for you. I can’t breathe without-_  
And he took a breath.

_Don’t you know that I love you?_ Brad responded, in decent French,  
Patrice’s eyes went wide in a gratifying way.  
_And I like to know what you say. I learned a little._

Brad let up his knees and hands, and Patrice slowly rose to his mouth.  
Seven sweet kisses later,  
_I love you too, been loving you, been loving you a long long time,_

,  
,

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading. :) feel free to comment or leave kudos


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